Cheering Charms
by Squaresque
Summary: Set in the 3rd book, after Hermione slaps Malfoy. Hard. One shot! Cheering charms really do cheer people up, guys. R & R thanks, it's my first fic!


**HI GUYS! First fanfic, so bear with it. (My opinion: IT SUCKS!) But pleeeaaaaaaaaseeeeee R & R, even if it's to tell me it's rubbishy. And here goes nothing!**

Arithmancy was not a particularly difficult subject. Neither, indeed, was Muggle Studies. Or Ancient Runes. No, when it came to Hermione Granger, studies were a breeze.

So why did she feel as though she had just eaten one too many of Hagrid's pastries? Not that anyone with common sense would touch his cooking at all.

It was all Malfoy's fault. _Draco Malfoy_, that stuck-up, arrogant _Pureblood,_ who had definitely deserved that slap. And more.

Hermione glowered at _Numerology and Grammatica_ and chucked the said book across the common room, where it landed forlornly in an armchair, dangerously close to the fire. She groaned and buried her head in her arms, letting fatigue wash over her.

***

Waking up to someone prodding you incessantly is probably not very enjoyable, especially when you've been having a black day. Hermione sat bolt upright, intending to snap at her prodder, and found Harry and Ron sitting next to her, looking concerned.

And then she discovered she had missed Charms.

Snatching her bag, she dashed out of Gryffindor tower and straight for Professor Flitwick's office.

It was _all _Malfoy's fault.

"Professor, I'm sorry, I just... I... well, I forgot." She turned red and looked at her feet embarrassedly. How could a top student do something as absurd as forget a lesson! Pathetic, really, but Flitwick didn't seem that perturbed.

"It's all right, my dear, don't look so worried," the tiny professor squeaked – he must have seen the extremely distraught look on his student's face.

"But... but professor, you, uh, hinted that, you know..."

Flitwick remembered the exam topic and sighed. "Ah, yes." He paused and looked up at Hermione, who now seem on the verge of a breakdown. He'd seen one before. Crying fits, hysterics and who-knows-what. Better to avoid _that_.

"Well, I suppose I _could_ give you a remedial session. I mean, a make-up class," he hastily amended, seeing Hermione's eyes widen in horror at the word "remedial". "See me tonight, in my office."

Mumbling her thanks and unable to believe her luck, Hermione left for Divination. She may just have scored a ticket to passing Charms with distinction, but it didn't make it any less Malfoy's fault.

***

At 8.30 sharp, Hermione was outside Flitwick's office, knocking on the door tentatively. She wasn't feeling any better. There was still a panicky flutter in her stomach and it hadn't been made any better by skipping both lunch _and_ dinner.

Professor Flitwick let her in and she looked around the Charms professor's office, taking in the titles of the books stacked on the rickety shelves and taking note of those she would like to borrow. Typical Hermione, always looking for a good read. Although typically, a thick, dusty tome twice the size of _Hogwarts, A History_ would not be considered a "good read".

"Professor, I'm sorry," Hermione began hesitantly, "but if I'm practicing Cheering Charms don't I need a –"

The door banged open and a dreadfully familiar drawl drifted through. "Sorry, Professor, I was held up by Potter and – _what's she doing here_?!"

Malfoy looked incredulous and outraged, and Hermione was pleased to note that the side of his face still looked sore and red. He caught her smug look and glared at her menacingly. Flitwick looked confused by his hostility, and decided to break the cold silence that followed by giving an extra large smile.

"Since there were two students who missed the lesson, I thought we could let them practice on each other!" He said enthusiastically. Slightly put out by the lack of reaction to this profound statement, he continued more irritably, "So if you please, Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy, do start. We don't have all day, and I'm sure a Cheering Charm will be just what you two need to be happy!"

He sounded, they both thought, like he was talking to two young toddlers.

Malfoy casually walked past Hermione and sneered in her ear, "_Not_ cheering _you_ up, Granger, is my way of cheering _me_ up."

Hermione rolled her eyes and ignored him. Was this his idea of _wit_? To be fair, though, Hermione had to admit it was not the best idea to cheer up someone who could think up various nasty things to do to her when he was in a bad mood, let alone when he was _happy_.

Nevertheless, Hermione appeared to have no choice, so she reluctantly brandished her wand at him, and for once, actually wished something would go wrong.

If the Hermione Granger of yesterday had wished for one of her spells to fail, she would seriously suggest a trip to Madam Pomfrey, not to mention a whack on the head to set her thinking straight.

Things change. Hermione's aptitude for magic was not one of them.

Malfoy felt a curious sensation spread through him, causing his facial muscles to twitch and pull his mouth into a wide grin. A most unusual thing to find on Malfoy's face, which usually displayed either a sneer, a smirk, or sometimes both at once.

He felt such an unusual lack of vindictiveness that he actually reciprocated the charm. This was nothing short of a miracle, because he had been practicing hexes the whole afternoon (Neville was in the hospital wing now), planning to take revenge on Granger, and it would have been so easy to let his tongue slip and give Hermione an overdose of acne instead of a wimpy little cheering charm.

Flitwick was just about to send them on their way when he noticed that Malfoy seemed to be trying to smile and frown at the same time.

"Mr Malfoy, are you all right?!"

Malfoy quickly abandoned his attempts to pretend Granger's charm had not succeeded. _That would have been enough to spoil the rest of her day. Or her week, even._

"No, sir."

Flitwick eyed him beadily, while Hermione fought hard not to laugh derisively at Malfoy's look of feigned nonchalance.

***

Later, walking out of the professor's office together, Malfoy wondered why he had possibly _never_ felt so content before. Maybe it was because he had no life. He sometimes did wonder if there was more to it than sprawling mansions and pet peacocks.

But weren't pet peacocks a good way to indulge oneself?

"Granger?"

"Yes, Malfoy," Hermione answered warily.

"Maybe I should consider employing you to cheer me up next time."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow.

"NOT... Don't you dare get the wrong idea, Granger!" Malfoy spluttered indignantly. When he had somewhat regained his composure, he smoothed his blond hair down.

"What I meant _is_," he began again in a dignified way, "Cast cheering charms on me. You seem to be, uh, quite good. At least average."

There was a pause, and then Malfoy realized how wrong this whole conversation was turning out.

"Don't take anything I just said seriously, Granger." He shot her a sidelong glance and added in an undertone, "It definitely won't hold anymore when this wears off."

Hermione had recovered fairly well from the shock of hearing Malfoy speak to her civilly, and managed to collect her thoughts on this subject.

"Frankly, I wouldn't mind doing it, Malfoy, if it would make you a better person," she said matter-of-factly.

Malfoy stopped in his tracks and stared at her, somewhat astonished.

Great. Now it was her turn to screw up.

Then he took several deliberate steps towards her, causing her to back into a suit of armour.

"Really, Granger, I didn't know you cared so much about me being a _better person_," Malfoy smirked.

"That's because you don't... care much about things, do you!" Hermione blurted defensively. With an effort, she forced herself to look up, and warm chestnut brown eyes met cold grey ones.

Malfoy bent closer and she flinched instinctively, but all he did was bring his lips close to her ear and whisper, "Well, I'm honoured, especially since you slapped me just this morning. I don't suppose it was a sign of affection?"

Was he doing this just to annoy her?! She looked around for an escape route but Malfoy casually put his arms on either side of her. He wasn't smiling anymore, but observing her, almost curiously, like it was the first time seeing her. Hermione tried to think of a scathing reply but Malfoy spoke first.

"You know, never thought I'd say this, but if you discount the bushy hair and the large teeth, you actually look –"

"Mr Malfoy, Miss Granger, may I ask exactly what you two are doing?"

The pair hurriedly separated, and glanced wildly up and down the corridor, their eyes falling on Professor Snape. The Potions master looked like he was trying to keep himself from smirking – there was an air of smugness about him that simply could not be missed.

"Well? Did Mr Malfoy trip over Miss Granger, perhaps? Or do you two find the armour most intriguing?" His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

"We were just talking, Professor," Hermione said in a small voice.

"I see." He took in her crimson cheeks and raised his eyebrows. "Of course, that would explain it. Now, if you've finished talking, maybe you'd like to return to your dormitories. Students normally don't take strolls at night just to chat with each other."

"Y... Yes, Professor."

Hermione fled without a backward glance, almost tripping over herself in her haste to get up the stairs. They watched her retreating back for a moment, and then Snape turned pointedly to Malfoy.

"We really were... just talking, Professor," Malfoy said.

Snape gave him the once over and Malfoy cringed as his teacher's obsidian eyes swept over his face.

"Really, I had no idea you were such a terrible liar."

As they began walking back to the dungeons, Malfoy thought it apt to say something.

"Professor, there's nothing going on. Slytherin and Gryffindor are like..." Here he struggled to find an analogy strong enough to describe the enmity. No words came to mind. "But anyway, that's why nothing could be going on!" He finished valiantly.

Snape didn't even look at him this time. Maybe he could tell it was true. Or maybe he was highly skilled at Legilimency, but Malfoy wasn't to know that.

Or maybe, just maybe, he was thinking of a girl with dark red hair and clear green eyes, a girl who had been in Gryffindor while he had been in Slytherin. A girl who had been called Lily Evans.

But that wasn't for Malfoy to know either, and Severus Snape watched him disappear into the common room before sweeping off, his black cloak billowing behind him.

***

Hermione tossed restlessly in her four-poster bed. Just this afternoon, she had slapped Malfoy. Then, hours ago, she had performed a cheering charm on him. But nothing could be going on. Slytherin and Gryffindor were like...

Well, suffice it to say that nothing could be going on.

She never did find out what Malfoy had been going to say, did she? It was probably something like, "as ugly as ever", or "like a chipmunk", but it didn't really matter.

Because Hermione knew she had caught a glimpse of Malfoy when he wasn't being a complete ass.

The Malfoy he _could_ be, but _wasn't_.

And as long as he _wasn't_, they'd be rivals for the rest of their four years at Hogwarts.

Hermione Granger tightened her resolve. She was so going to beat Malfoy in cheering charms this year.


End file.
